


Midnight Kiss

by itsallhushhush



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex, Uncle-Niece Relationship, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallhushhush/pseuds/itsallhushhush
Summary: A sequel toEggnogIt was tradition for Catelyn and Lysa to trade off hosting holiday parties each year, and the only thing different this year was that Lysa was a newly, re-married woman. One wouldn’t think that would change a person very much, but Lysa was definitely in top spirits as she greeted the family at the door. Granted her aunt’s demeanour was always generally elevated, it was just usually in a much more anxious, chaotic way. Petyr was the love of Lysa’s life—which she never seemed to get tired of saying—and, somehow, he changed her into a much nicer version of what she once was.Sansa was, of course, apprehensive about attending the party given what had happened at her family’s Christmas party. Anything in Sansa’s memory—after having drank all that eggnog—was considerably blurry, but she still got flashes of intense clarity that made her stomach twist in knots.





	Midnight Kiss

When Sansa, and the rest of the Stark family, arrived at Lysa’s estate, the New Years Eve party was already in full swing. 

It was tradition for Catelyn and Lysa to trade off hosting holiday parties each year, and the only thing different this year was that Lysa was a newly, re-married woman. One wouldn’t think that would change a person very much, but Lysa was definitely in top spirits as she greeted the family at the door. Granted her aunt’s demeanour was always generally elevated, it was just usually in a much more anxious, chaotic way. Petyr was the love of Lysa’s life—which she never seemed to get tired of saying—and, somehow, he changed her into a much nicer version of what she once was. 

Sansa was, of course, apprehensive about attending the party given what had happened at her family’s Christmas party. Anything in Sansa’s memory—after having drank all that eggnog—was considerably blurry, but she still got flashes of intense clarity that made her stomach twist in knots. If the spotty memories hadn’t been enough for her to know something had happened that night with her Uncle Petyr, the traces of blood she had found the next morning in her underwear, and the tender feeling between her legs, was all the proof she needed. 

For Sansa, the thought of even seeing Petyr again was enough to make her tremble with nerves. She had tried her best to feign sickness to get out of going to her aunt’s party, but the moment her mother pulled the thermometer from the medicine cabinet she gave up her fight. 

“Darling Sansa, don’t you look beautiful,” Lysa announced, coming from behind and catching hold of Sansa’s hand. 

Sansa half smiled and looked down at her dress—it was emerald green with a peter-pan collar and buttons all down the front. Truthfully, it wasn’t the most beautiful dress she owned, but something inside had nagged at her to dress more simply for the occasion. It was unlike her, but she wasn’t interested in the extra attention. “Thank you, Lysa,” she said demurely and gave her aunt another quick smile. 

“I’m sure Petyr will say the same once he sees you,” Lysa offered, having no idea of all the lude thoughts her husband had about her young niece, “I remember his remarks of how beautiful you were at the Christmas party. We both agree that you will be a heartbreaker one day—of course, once you’re a grown woman.” The observation tacked on at the end was very much like her aunt—she would always find a way to make a compliment seem worthless. If she only knew what Sansa knew. 

Sansa’s smiled faded, but Lysa didn’t notice as her attention was quickly turned elsewhere, and she walked away leaving Sansa in the middle of a room surrounded by people she only vaguely recognized. For a moment she scanned the room for her family, then began to weave her way through the crowd in effort to find them. 

Passing through the kitchen she saw an enormous, crystal punch bowl on the counter and as she walked by it she felt her stomach turn as the smell of vodka hit her—reminding her of the terrible hangover she had had barely a week ago. When her mother had caught her vomiting that morning, she lied and said Jeyne had dared her to eat multiple raw oysters and that they hadn’t agreed with her. Thankfully there was no way for Catelyn to learn the truth.

Still unable to find her family, Sansa continued to meander from crowded room to crowded room—Lysa’s house was far bigger than it needed to be for just the three of them living there, but it wouldn’t be like Lysa if she didn’t flaunt her late-husband’s wealth in everyone’s face.

She was still eyeing the room for a familiar face when she felt a strong hand catch hold of her arm. She turned, not completely thinking of who may be touching her, and when she saw Petyr’s face, smirking at her, her stomach sank. 

“Lysa told me you looked beautiful tonight, but she gravely understated the truth,” Petyr said in a tone that could only be heard by them, and he looked her up and down. Her copper hair fell in waves about her shoulders and the dress she was wearing clung to her youthful body in all the right places. She was a vision, and Petyr was practically salivating. 

Sansa looked at him, unsure of how to react, but a blush creeped upon her cheeks anyway. Of course she was flattered to have such a compliment said about her, but she knew Petyr shouldn’t be looking at her the way he was. “Thank you,” was all she could manage to say and Petyr practically beamed. 

“Would you like a glass of champagne?” Petyr asked, gesturing with his own flute of bubbly, and grinned knowingly. There was no way he was ever going to get her as drunk and inhibition-free as she had been at the Christmas party, but he would be a fool not to try. 

“No, thank you,” Sansa said and shook her head. In such close proximity, the smell of Petyr’s cologne wafted her way and for a second it brought back memories that made her legs feel momentarily weak. Keeping her composure, she stepped away from him just a little. 

“Ah I see, not playing games tonight then,” he said with a chuckle and took a drink from his glass. To get Sansa exactly where he wanted was going to take a bit of maneuvering on his part—but he was readily up for the challenge. “So,” he said, casually stepping nearer to Sansa and placing his hand on the small of her back, “Who are you going to kiss at midnight?”

Sansa didn’t look at him—she couldn’t—as the memory of his mouth on hers washed over her. The warmth of his hand on her lower back crawled up her spine and she suppressed a shiver. “No one,” she said calmly, even though she felt anything but calm.

Petyr laughed gently to himself and leaned over just enough that he could whisper to her. “You’re going to kiss me.”

Sansa felt her heart rise into her throat and she swallowed nervously.  _ He’s lying,  _ she told herself and when she turned her head to look at him he was grinning. 

“Meet me in the west hallway in fifteen minutes,” he whispered and then suddenly he was gone, as if he had been only an apparition—but the feeling of lingering warmth at the small of her back told her he was the real thing. 

She stood there, his words repeating over and over in her head as she searched for a clock on the wall. 

_ I will not meet him _ , she told herself, but somewhere, deep down inside, there was a tiny speck of interest that grew bigger with every passing second.  _ I’m not that girl, _ she tried to convince herself, but even her will to be pure and decent couldn’t complete with the memory of how his hand had felt between her legs. And when the big hang of the clock went from one to four, she slipped away from the party. 

“I won’t let him do anything. I’m just meeting him,” Sansa mumbled to herself as she walked through her aunt’s house to find the west hallway.

When she got there, the hallway was clear, with no one to be seen, and though she felt a slight twinge of disappointment, she knew that it was better for everyone that she not be alone with Petyr. 

Suddenly, the warmth of a body pressed up behind her and she almost shivered at the feeling. 

“Did you think I forgot about you?” Petyr whispered into her ear as his hands moved to touch her waist. 

Sansa turned, stepping away from his touch. “I only came to tell you that I’m not kissing you again,” she stated firmly. She  _ would not  _ kiss him—even though she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she had. Her feelings were a mess of contradictions. 

Petyr couldn’t help but smile at that.  _ Challenge accepted _ . “Is that why you think I asked you here?”

“Well, isn’t it?” She asked, her brow furrowing. 

“It’s not. I have something to show you. Come with me,” he said and walked passed her, further down the hall. 

Sansa turned to watch him, but kept firmly in her place. 

“Or don’t...but I think you’ll want to see this,” he called back to her with a grin, and then slipped into a room and out of sight. 

For a moment Sansa pondered her choice. The tiny angel on her shoulder was telling her to turn around and head back to the party, but the louder, much more tempting, devil on her shoulder was telling her to follow the cunning older man.

_ I am good and decent,  _ she thought to herself as she walked down the hall. 

When she stepped into the doorway Petyr was standing there, as if he knew she would choose to follow him and it annoyed her that he would assume such a thing. 

“Come in, don’t be shy,” he said, gesturing to her. 

Hesitantly she walked further into the room, which she could only assume was a study from the furnishings, and as she neared the middle of the room, Petyr stepped around her and closed the door. She looked at him suspiciously, but he only smiled in return. 

“What did you want to show me then?” She asked, hoping that whatever he wanted her to see could be over with, so she could leave. 

Petyr put his hands in his pockets and sauntered toward her. “I don’t suppose you remember the Christmas party?” He asked, knowing full well she remembered most of it—and whatever might have been foggy to her, he was more than willing to fill in the details. 

Sansa stared at him hard. Was he seriously asking her that? “I remember most of it,” she said, crossing her arms. 

Petyr chuckled and grinned at her. “That’s very good to hear,” he said, still walking toward her. “I don’t suppose you remember me finding you drunk in the bathroom?”

Sansa tightened her stance. Of course she remembered, but she could tell her recollection of the night wasn’t something he wanted to hear—she knew what he was doing. “I don’t care that you know I was drunk. Tell my parents if you want,” she challenged, “they won’t believe you over their own daughter. They don’t even like you.” She didn’t care that she was spilling their secrets, she knew that they would never listen to the word of a man they had repeated called slimy and loathsome. 

Petyr stopped in his tracks and slapped his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Oh Sansa, you  _ wound  _ me. Whatever will I do without the favour of the righteous and godly Ned and Catelyn Stark?” He couldn’t help but laugh at his own words. 

“You’re not funny,” Sansa pointed out, defiance on her face. 

“And you’re as intimidating as a kitten,” he said, grinning broadly.

“I will tell them myself—I don’t care. I will take the grounding,” she said to him. Yes, being grounded—without the use of her phone and the loss of respect from her parents—would be absolutely awful, but it was worth keeping her dignity intact. “You can’t blackmail me anymore,” she finally said, sticking her nose up at him and feeling virtuous as she took his leverage away from him. But as Petyr continued to smile at her she felt her righteousness falter. 

Petyr didn’t say a word. Instead he pulled his phone from his pocket and began to swipe across the screen. When he stopped, he grinned smugly and turned the phone for Sansa to see.

It took a few seconds for Sansa to comprehend what she was seeing, and her mouth fell open when she realized what she was looking at. The photo was of her, straddling Petyr’s lap with her face buried in his neck and arms about his shoulders. 

She blinked slowly and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “What is…” she trailed off, as she knew exactly what it was. 

“Oh this right here is a picture of you on my lap, right after you came,” Petyr said moving beside her so that he could look at the picture with her—though it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. No, that picture got him through a few  _ hard  _ days. “Would you like to hear a secret?” He asked, voice lowering to almost a whisper. 

Sansa was still staring at the picture, nearly unable to speak. “What?” She replied, her voice barely audible. 

“Well...when I took this picture, my fingers were still in your  _ cunt _ ,” he whispered, and Sansa could practically hear the grin in his tone. 

She turned quickly and stared at him wide-eyed. “Delete it,” she said, and there was a desperation in her voice.

“Why would I do that? I really like this picture,” Petyr said and pressed the phone to his chest. 

“Please, Petyr.  _ Please _ ,” she begged, her eyes pleading. Being grounded for drinking would be nothing compared to what her parents would do to her if they saw that picture. They would surely disown her and send her away to the nearest convent. Nothing could ever redeem her from that.

The sound of her begging was just about enough to get him hard, and in that moment he had really wished he’d pressed his voice recorded on. Those three little words could really get him through some cold nights away on business trips. “Oh, how I love to hear you beg,” he said, teasingly. “But, dear Sansa, I think you already know I don’t give in that easily. If I erased this picture, what’s in it for me?” 

Sansa stared at him—she knew what he was doing and she was completely powerless against him. At fourteen years old, she could barely fathom the perverted thoughts that stirred around his head, but she knew enough that there was only one thing he wanted—and that was her. 

“Okay,” she said quietly, defeated, and looked down at the floor. 

Petyr stepped forward and tucked his finger beneath her chin, making her look up at him. “Don’t look so sad, you really sounded like you enjoyed yourself the last time,” he said with a smirk. “And besides, your little girlfriends would be so jealous to know you’ve had the experience of an older man touching you—they’ve only had the misfortune of fumbling little boys.” 

Sansa stared up at him and nerves began to take hold of her. At least the last time she had the luxury of alcohol to calm her. 

Petyr could see the apprehension on her face and he tried his best to hide how much the look thrilled him. “Don’t be afraid, I promise I’ll be gentle,” he said, speaking softly in effort to put her at ease. 

Stepping back he looked her up and down, hardly able to contain his wildly imaginative thoughts as he stared at her. He could literally have her in any way he wanted, and god, did he want her in a thousand different ways, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. If anything, he wanted to please her in such a way that  _ she _ came looking for  _ him _ —but that may just be wishful thinking. 

Stepping back toward her it pleased him that she didn’t move away, that she was standing there, hands by her sides, waiting for him to proceed with whatever he wanted. Reaching out he stroked her cheek and drew his thumb across her lips, but he didn’t stop there and continued to graze his fingers down along her neck and over to her shoulder. Her dress was made of soft, thin cotton and when he glanced down at her chest he was delighted to see she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples had already begun to show themselves. 

Moving his hand downward he caught one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and Sansa gasped in response. Petyr grinned and as he let his thumb rub over the nub, it hardened in return. 

“Mmm...seems you’re body really enjoys my touch,” Petyr whispered, and Sansa’s cheeks blushed a deep red. She couldn’t help but feel ashamed by her body’s reaction to his touch, but she also couldn’t deny that what he did to her sent pleasant shivers through her body. 

Sansa held back another gasp as Petyr’s fingers pinched her other nipple and she curled her fingers into the skirt of her dress to keep her hands from shaking. Without warning Petyr’s hands then move to her shoulders and his mouth presses to hers. Her thoughts were quickly flooded with memories of being with him in the bathroom on Christmas Eve. She hated herself for enjoying the feeling, and hated herself even more for returning the kiss now. Her mouth moved with his, keeping a much better pace this time, and when he teased his tongue against her own she instinctively returned the gesture.

When Petyr pulled away from the kiss, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. “Such a sexy girl,” he said in a low, lustful tone and his hands move to her collar, where he began to unbutton her dress. 

Sansa’s eyes widened his actions—she had never been naked in front of a man ever, not even her brothers—but at this moment she had no power to object.

Petyr unbuttoned her dress, slowly, until just above her waist, and a small slice of fair skin was exposed to him. He felt much like a kid on Christmas unwrapping a special gift.  _ Such a special gift _ , he thought to himself and without any further hesitation he pulled open the top of her dress to see young, perky breasts—not enough to make a handful, but certainly enough to enjoy. His hands moved to her breasts, cupping them, then moved on to fondle and touch her perfectly pink nipples.

Sansa couldn't help the little gasps she made as Petyr touched her and she squirmed in her spot as she was unable to contain how much she really enjoyed his attention. 

“Come, sit on the desk,” Petyr said and he all but picked her up and put her there himself. She was taller sitting on the desk and for a moment he just stood back and stared at her, enjoying the view of her being exposed to him. From the blush on her face, to the hardness of her nipples—she was a vision, as if all his perverted thoughts had come to life, and he couldn’t have been more elated. 

Walking back over to her, he kissed her again, and enjoyed the way her unskilled mouth kissed him back.  _ Such a beautiful mouth _ , he thought, and allowed his mind to wander just a little—the things he could do with that mouth. 

His kissed moved to her jaw, then to her neck, then down her chest until—“Oh!” Sansa gasped as Petyr’s mouth closed around her nipple and his tongue began flicking over it. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk and she pushed forward into the delightful feeling—it sent a shiver right to her groin and she squirmed, pressing her thighs together hard. 

As Petyr’s mouth went back and forth to each breast, sucking and licking at each sensitive nipple, Sansa couldn’t help but let out little noises of enjoyment. 

Then, all of a sudden, Petyr stood back again and she let out a noise of displeasure as his touch left her. His mouth had felt so good that she forgot she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it, and when she looked at Petyr he was grinning.

“Sansa, tisk tisk, what would your parents think if they saw you right now?” Petyr asked, and Sansa’s stomach sank. They would think she was possessed by the devil, and, perhaps, she was.

Petyr stepped closer, moving so that he was between her legs and he smirked at her. “I think we should give them a  _ real  _ reason to hate me,” Petyr suggested, though Sansa didn’t quite know what he was insinuating—surely this would already be enough to drive them into a murderous rage. 

His hands then moved to her skirt, and he slowly pushed it up her thighs as far as it would go. Sansa blushed with embarrassment when her panties came into view and she wanted to press her legs closed, but he was standing between them. Petyr moved his hands up and down her thighs teasingly and, each time they moved high, her heart raced a little at the thought of what he might do. Stopping at her upper thigh Petyr’s thumb drew circles on her skin and then carefully moved over the crotch of her panties. Sansa’s stomach twirled with excitement and she shifted in place—wanting to move into the touch, but too embarrassed to show how much she really wanted it. 

Petyr continued for a long moment just like that, with his thumb moving in up and down strokes—not pressing too hard, but enough to tease her. Her panties were sufficiently wet and he could easily smell her scent—it practically made him salivate.

Suddenly, he hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her to the edge of the desk. “Hold this,” he said, bunching up her skirt at her waist. “I want you to watch me.”

Petyr dropped to his knees between her legs and he kissed his way from her knee to her inner thigh, and when he got close enough he pressed his nose to her underwear and inhaled deeply through his nose, smelling her delectable musky scent.

Sansa heart was beating wildly as she stared down at him. She had never—god, was he going to? He mind raced and she shivered when Petyr’s mouth pressed against her. 

Petyr pressed a kiss to the front of her underwear and then slowly he drug his tongue up along her panties, making sure to wiggle his tongue where he knew her clit would be—eliciting a whimper from her. Then, with two fingers he reached up and pulled her panties aside, uncovering a beautiful, little cunt with a covering of fiery curls. It was more lovely than he had ever imagined—and, oh, how he had imagined. 

Sansa jerked when he put his mouth against her and she neatly jumped off the table when he slid his warm tongue between her lips. “Oh, god!” She gasped unexpectedly.

Petyr smiled against her lips and dipped his tongue between them again—exploring her, tasting her, and god, he wanted to devour her. He moved to find her entrance and he licked over it slowly and deliberately, as he listened to her soft whimpers above him. Knowing she was watching him and enjoying it pleased him, but knowing he was the first man to ever taste her was the kind of mental fodder that would get him through months of having to fuck his detestable wife. 

Sansa squirmed and her thighs fidgeting as Petyr continued exploring her with his mouth. It was hard to keep watching him, as her eyes kept slipping closed when he would lick over a sensitive area—sensitive areas she didn’t even know she had.

With his fingers her parted her lips and admired the beautiful, deep pink of her cunt, before dipping his head back between her legs and licking over her clit. She yelped at that, her hand grasping for his hair, and he did it against, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub, until she was breathless and her thighs were quivering. Knowing she was getting close, he moved to kiss her thigh, wanting to keep her on edge a little longer, and she whined at the loss of contact.

He felt her fingers playing with his hair and he smiled to himself as he continued to place kisses on her inner thigh. Once her breathing began to settled he knew that she was ready for more, and this time he wasn’t going to stop until she was moaning his name. 

His nose brushed over damp curls and he put his mouth back on her, licking over her lips. When her breathing began to quicken and her fingers tighter in his hair, he covered her clit with with mouth and began to suck on it. Immediately Sansa responded with a lengthy moan and he could feel her pulling his head closer, wanting more. 

Sansa moaned louder as Petyr continued to suck on her sensitive clit. It felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before—her entire body was tingling and sensitive in the best kind of way—and she never wanted him to stop.

Petyr could feel her thighs begin to shake, and knowing she was close he reached up with his free hand and quickly slid two fingers inside her. 

Sansa cried out at the intrusion, but quickly became a panting, moaning mess as he fingered her fast and sucked on her clit. “Oh, god, Petyr, Petyr,” she moaned loudly, her fingers so tight in his hair it was a surprise she wasn’t ripping it out.

The sound of her moaning his name was like music to his ears, and when he curled his fingers inside her—hitting that’s sweet spot—the added pleasure was enough to send her over the edge and into ecstasy.

She whimpered above him, as her entire body shook from her orgasm, and like before, he continued to pleasure her through it by licking softly over her cunt and swollen clit. 

Sansa was still breathing hard, her body twitching with delight, as Petyr stood back up between her legs. She looked at him, hardly able to think, and stared at the wetness that covered his mouth. That was from  _ her. _

In the silence, the faint sound of a countdown could be heard. 

_ “Five...Four…Three…” _

Then, all at once, Petyr caught hold of her and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her so hard and deep that she could taste herself on his tongue, and it made her shiver.

_ “Happy New Year!” _

In the distance, they could hear the crowd’s excitement as they brought in the new year with cheering and noise makers.

And, with his hands on her neck, Petyr pressed his mouth near her ear and whispered smugly, “I knew you would kiss me at midnight.”

 


End file.
